Nighttime entertainment

It is difficult to write about the long winter hours. There is no way to take pictures, no way to record the noises. Fifteen hours of darkness, the only illumination the star light reflected by the snow. Even in nights without moon, it is never completely black when snow is on the hills. There is nothing to do, but to stay warm, to think only simple thoughts, and to listen.

Animal noises are rare at this time of the year. Footsteps outside, made by a small creature. An errant roaring stag. The resident ravens, awake at an untimely hour. An owl. Wait, an owl? The next tree is miles away. What other bird can make such creepy noises at night? Next up, a screeching sound. Sometimes I think the loch is making this up. Sometimes it is not easy to decide if a noise is made outside or inside my half-awake mind. A gunshot? Not really.

The wind has a strange way of entertaining me. It is called "guess what will happen next". I can hear gusts of wind minutes before they hit the tent. Small, defined bundles of air move through the hills. Sometimes they stay up there and all I get is a swooshing noise. Sometimes they drop down and blow through my bubble. Sometimes they emerge from the north, and when that happens, there is no way to escape them. I can hear the air minutes after it is gone, when the water in the loch splashes around in memory of a wind gust.